by Nicole Fox
He could ask for the ransom money, just like he'd planned earlier.
No, that had been a dark path, one that he'd pushed aside in favor of working with her. And, up until now, that had seemed to be working. He thought back to her threat from the first day, about how he'd end up in a cell with Benton at the end of all this. If he kept going down this ill-conceived road of self-destruction, beside Benton was right where he'd end up.
But, on the other hand, this was the closest he'd come to helping his brother since the murders. His pursuit of vengeance, while not necessarily healthy, had gotten him this far. Hadn't it? He had the evidence in hand—proof of BioSphere's conspiracies.
At what cost, though? Besides just having a date with prison, what kind of man was he becoming? The drinking, the violence, the things he'd almost been willing to do to Jas. All because of what? His desire for revenge?
He shook his head and, without saying a word, went back into Emily's study.
“Dane?” Emily asked in a concerned voice, as she followed behind him. “Are you okay?”
If he dropped this quest for justice, no matter how sick it was, it would be like he was abandoning Benton. Sure, Dane could probably walk away from this a free man. But what about his brother? He'd rot for another few years, until his appeals ran out, then he'd be in the gas chamber, or at the end of a needle.
He couldn't abandon him. Not his brother! He was the only one who'd ever stood by Dane through all these years. How could he even consider that?
No, he needed to hold onto Emily. And he needed to hold onto the evidence. If he had one, and not the other, he was just going to end up with a losing hand at the end of this bizarre game.
Yes, he'd have to keep her. She was still going to have to be his.
Besides, how could he abandon her, especially when they were so close to making a real breakthrough?
“Dane?” Emily asked again, gently touching his back. “Sir?”
His hand went down to his belt, and he began to unbuckle it. He slid it out of the loops, with a hiss of leather on wool.
“Sir?” she asked, her voice a trembling whisper as he turned around and looked down into her eyes. Her blue gaze held fear. Fear and . . . something else, Dane realized, as she bit her shaking lip.
It was anticipation.
Chapter Nineteen
Dane
“What did I go to deserve punishment this time, sir?” she whispered, as she lowered her eyes a little.
He took the belt in his hands and gripped it tightly in both hands. He folded it over into a leather strap and stroked it down her cheek. “This isn't a punishment,” he whispered, his voice already filled with lust and need. “It's a reward.”
She shivered and closed her eyes, a little sigh escaping her lips as the belt passed over her smooth, porcelain skin. She bit her lip, still shivering, and held as still as possible. She was waiting for his first command, he knew.
“Strip,” he said, walking around behind her.
She slowly began to strip out of her clothes. Soon, she stood on bare feet in the middle of the office, naked as the day she was born. Naked as the day he'd brought her home.
Dane stroked the end of the folded belt over her firm ass, loving the way she groaned at its touch.
“What are you going to do to me, sir?” she asked over her shoulder.
He stepped behind her, one hand encircling her arm, the other still holding his belt. He brought the belt up around in front and looped it around her throat.
She sucked in a surprised breath, groaning as his free hand snaked around to her front and found her breast. She arched into his touch as she pushed back suggestively against his crotch with her bare ass.
She wanted this, and he knew it. She wanted to feel the pain, the pleasure, and a mix of the two in such a heady, paradoxical union that it wiped away everything else. Belt still pulled taught across her throat, he guided her to the floor, onto her hands and knees.
She whimpered as he ran his hand over her body, appraising what they both knew belonged to him.
“Spread your legs.”
“Yes, sir,” she whispered, as she parted her thighs for him. She groaned as he stroked a finger over her wetness. She was dripping in anticipation.
He circled a wet finger around her clit, producing a sharp breath from her and a groan of pleasure. She pushed back into his hand, wordlessly begging for his touch. He pressed two fingers into her and she groaned as she met him with her own thrusts. She picked up her pace, moving more quickly on his hand, and he could tell she was close.
“Not yet,” he growled, as yanked the belt, pulling her head back and removing his hand. “You can't cum until I give you permission.”
“Yes, sir,” she nodded. “Yes, sir. Anything you say, sir.”
He slapped her ass, hard, laying his bare hand right across her.
She yelped in surprise, lurching forward into the belt and groaning. “Please, sir, don't stop.”
He slapped her again, her ass going a beet red as he spanked her harder this time.
His little slut groaned and cooed, her hips wiggling and pushing back to meet each slap, a stream of moans flowing from her mouth. “Oh, sir, yes.”
He reached down to his crotch and stroked his cock through his slacks. He'd never been this hard before in his life, and he knew her reaction was getting him even harder. “Stay,” he commanded, as he dropped the belt onto her back, but kept it around her throat. His shirt was halfway unbuttoned by the time he was to his feet.
“Sir?” she panted. She looked back over her shoulder and caught his eye as he finished undressing. She licked her lips and bit her plump bottom one as she her eyes settled on his cock.
“Did I say you could turn around, slut?” he hissed.
She turned back around, her ass still wiggling in the air, clearly hoping for more punishment. “No, sir,” she whispered quickly.
He walked back in front of her and picked the belt back up, unlooping it from her neck and letting it hang beside him like some cruel taskmaster's whip. “On your knees.”
She rose to her knees with a groan of anticipation. She looked up at him from beneath blonde bangs, her eyes half-lidded with rampant lust. She still bit her lower lip, and he knew she was eager to please her master.
“Get me ready,” he said, his cock pointing at her mouth.
She went to lift her hands, bringing them to his manhood.
He stopped her. “But only with your mouth.”
“Thank you, sir,” she said, then licked her lips one more time before tentatively stretching out her tongue to encircle his purple crown.
He lay his head back as his free hand found her hair, his fingers knitting themselves into her locks. He pulled her mouth forcefully onto his cock, making her gag as he hit the back of her throat. “Play with yourself,” he growled, as held his cock in place.
Emily half-whined, half-moaned as her hand dipped between her legs and she began to rub her clit. Her tongue swirled around his shaft as he mercilessly fucked her mouth, the saliva streaming down her chin as she continued to moan.
He took the belt in his hand and lightly, but not too lightly, slapped it down her back, the tip of it just barely reaching her ass. He crisscrossed red stripes down her back, each time producing a groan of approval from her shapely lips.
She moaned around his cock, her head bobbing faster as he struck her again and again, alternating sides.
He could feel himself building to a quick climax, so turned on was he by how wonderfully compliant and responsive she was being. He didn't want to go off too quickly, though. “Lower,” he growled as he redirected her mouth down to his heavy balls.
“Yes, sir,” she whimpered, her hand still flying between her legs, worrying away at her clit. She sucked first one ball, then the other into her mouth, moaning as he stroked himself.
His eyes rolled back his head as felt her teeth lightly nip at him, grazing over his tender flesh. It was so intimate to have her h
ere, in one of his most sensitive of places. If she wanted this to end, it could all be over very quickly.
Clearly, though, she didn't want to. He stroked himself, belt still in hand. He needed to be inside her now. He needed to feel her warmth wrapped around his cock as she shook to her orgasm.
Figuring she'd had enough, and wanting more for himself, he pulled her mouth from him. “Up,” he said.
She climbed to her feet with a mumbled, “Yes, sir. What would you like for me to do next, sir?”
“Over the desk. Right here,” he said. “Bend over it like a good girl.”
She nodded as she bit her lip. She stepped next to him and bent down over her home office's desk, her ass in the air as she pressed her tits into the desk. “Like this, sir?” she asked in a shaky voice.
“Just like that,” he purred, his hand already going to her dripping pussy. He dove between her legs, rubbing up and down her slit. She was positively soaked with passion.
He stepped behind her, touching the folded-up belt gently to either inner thigh.
She moaned as she shuffled her feet apart, spreading her legs for him. He got up behind her, cock in hand. He pressed into her from behind, splitting her delicious lips by guiding his head up and down, slathering himself in her desire.
“Please, sir,” she begged.
“Louder, slut,” he growled, as he ran his hands over her back and ass, loving the way she felt and the way that she had so totally become his. This was the feeling of control, of possession, he craved. But, just as importantly, it was the feeling of responsibility.
“Please,” she pleaded louder. “Please fuck me, sir. Please, I need to feel you inside me!”
Dane pushed into her, his cock stretching her tightness. She groaned loudly as he pulled out, then pushed further in. She moved back against him, begging with her hips for him to go deeper, to fuck her more fully.
He grabbed the belt with both hands, one on each end, and leaned forward. He looped it over his hostage's neck and tightened it.
Emily arched her back, her breasts lifting off the top of the desk, her eyes lifting to the ceiling, and her lips parting as she felt the leather tighten.
He held her in place with the belt bundled in one hand as he gripped her hip tightly with the other. He pressed hard into her flesh with the tips of his fingers, holding her, and pulling her back onto his cock, hard. He met the backward movement, his heavy balls slapping against her clit with each stroke.
“Do you like that, slut? Do you like having my cock buried inside you, with me slapping against your clit?”
“Yes, sir,” she gasped out between raspy moans, her whole body quavering as she contracted and spasmed around his cock. “Oh, God, sir, can I cum, please? Please?”
“Cum for me, Emily,” he groaned, as he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into her hard enough to nudge the desk forward with each forceful thrust. “Cum for me like a good little slut.” He was on the edge himself.
She seized, her whole body going stiff for one moment, then began to spasm almost uncontrollably, her arms and legs trembling as she convulsed around his cock, massaging him with her depths. She screamed as she shook, and Dane felt her drench his manhood with her essence as she, clearly unable to hold herself up under the pleasurable onslaught, nearly collapsed to the desk. “Oh, sir,” she groaned, as he pumped into her faster. “Please, don't stop. Please don't-!” She was cut off by her own screaming moan.
Dane dropped the belt and grabbed her other hip with his hand. He slammed into her and stayed deep inside, his body, shaking as he threw his head back, his voice joining hers as he came deep inside her. “Oh, fuck, Emily,” he growled somewhere in chest, a guttural sound as his hips resumed their thrusting.
“Oh, sir,” she groaned, between panting breaths.
Finally, his hips came to a stop, his knees weak and almost shaking from the intensity of his orgasm. He needed to sit down and take a moment.
She shakily rose from the desk as he collapsed into one of the office chairs in the room, his body glistening with sweat. Emily joined him in the chair, crawling into his lap.
Her skin was cool and hot at the same time and her body was as sweat-drenched as his. She stretched up and kissed him, murmuring her approval.
# # #
Emily
Submission, Emily realized, was about clearing the mind for her. She didn't worry about work, her future, or her past. None of those ideas entered the fray as she knelt before Dane's amazing manhood, or as she groaned around a mouthful of him. The pain on her backside pushed aside thoughts about what she was going to do about the Hymalete catastrophe,= and the belt over her throat made her forget about how tenuous her position as CEO was.
Instead, the burdens and worries lifted from her shoulders. The responsibilities of her position were, for at least that moment, released from her concerns. All she had to do was obey—to pleasure, and to be pleasured.
Now, as she sat there in Dane's lap, her head on his chest, just listening to the steady rhythm of his heart and the sensuous in-and-out of his breath, she realized that this man was as much protector as he was jailer. She realized, too, that this wasn't necessarily a sane arrangement. Far from it. At best, it was what most people would call “unconventional.”
Of course, she'd had an unconventional upbringing by an unconventional woman, and she had an unconventional career and life. So why not an unconventional relationship, too? It seemed to fit, didn't it?
Dane could see through to her core, peer into her soul, and see what darkness sat within her—a darkness that begged to be punished. She sighed again, her eyes still closed against the light coming in around the edges of the office curtains.
She snuggled up against his chest, thinking about what life with Dane would be like. Could it be this good all the time? Could she be a cold, ruthless bitch outside this home, then return to have her own little world where she got on her knees anytime he demanded?
She realized she was getting excited again just thinking about the possibility of it happening.
But it could happen, and she knew it. She opened her eyes and leaned back.
“What?” Dane asked, his hands coming up to cup her ass as he held her on his lap.
“Nothing, sir,” she whispered, a faint smile dancing on her lips.
Emily realized she could have this life with him, and have it forever. She just needed to figure out how to do it, and how to keep him out of prison.
Chapter Twenty
Emily
The next day, she worked from home, like she'd told Edward she would. She spent the morning catching up on emails and voicemails, looking over presentations, and reviewing revenue projections. There was an upcoming shareholders' meeting, as well, that really needed to be looked at.
She took a break a couple of hours in, the pot of coffee she'd had for breakfast sitting in her stomach like lead. She ran her hands through her hair, groaning at the amount of catching up she still had to do. Apparently, being kidnapped for a week and kept hostage in your home by a sexy psychopath tended to make the work build up for you.
Dane came in as she was taking her break, staring off blankly at the wall. In his hand, he held two plates, each adorned with a delicious-looking BLT.
“Sorry,” he said, as he came in. “But I know you’re sick of smoothies.”
She grinned at him as he came around the desk. “They smell delicious,” she said, closing up her planner and setting it aside.
He set the plate down in front of her. “Two slices of whole wheat bread, fresh tomatoes, lettuce, and lots of bacon,” he said. “Couldn't be more simple.”
A pleasurable memory of the evening before flashed in her mind as he went back around and set his plate right where she'd had her body planted. She could almost feel his touch again, feel the way he stretched her, and how he spanked her receptive body. With a small smile, she turned her attention to the sandwich and took a tiny bite.
“What do you think?” he asked,
as he pulled up the chair and settled in.
She gave him a thumbs-up and took another bite, her stomach growling as the salty, fried bacon invaded her senses.
They descended on their sandwiches like wild animals, tearing through them. They'd both woken up early, and Dane had spent much of the day outside in the garden, while she'd worked in the office. Soon, they were each through the first halves of their sandwich. As Emily lifted her second one to her mouth, she noticed Dane had paused. “You okay?” she asked.
“I've been thinking,” he said. “I think I know how to make the Times run the story.”